


Will You Remember Me?

by Phantomschild



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I think?, One Shot, Poor Host, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantomschild/pseuds/Phantomschild
Summary: The Host's thoughts after Markiplier announced that he (and others) would not be making another on screen appearance.This is a one-shot, and it was meant to have multiple endings, but life decided to catch up with me, and run me over. If I have any extra time, I'll try to come back and write the endings.





	Will You Remember Me?

He had seen this coming-

How could he not? He was the Host. Seeing was his job.

But, what he hasn't seen was the pain. The debilitating pain of knowing that soon enough, he would be gone. Alongside that pain was fear. Concocted of his limited knowledge and the unlimited power of his visions, the Host knew what to expect.

That is to say, the Host knew (will always know) what happens to humans after they die. That empty, black eternity that seemed to swallow one whole while leaving them be. But, he ~~wasn't~~ isn't human. He's the product of a few creators and the belief of thousands.

So, what happens now? Does he fade from existence? Will he drift from the minds of those he held so dear, or will he still walk alongside them?

“The Host pushes the questions from his mind as he forces himself to move, dragging himself closer to his room. He has made a decision.” He cut his sentence short as two of the Googles (Red and Blue), deep in their own conversation, passed him.

After the two disappeared, Host kept his thoughts to himself, in case any of the other Egos were around. ‘If the Host were to simply go to sleep then, by the time he has faded, or possibly not faded, he won't have to feel it.’ After all, humans are always under the assumption that dying in one's sleep is peaceful.

But, what about the others? Host had been the only one around when Mark made his deceleration. What would Warfstasche think when the Host closed his doors for the last time?  And what about Bim, the Ego was practically an innocent child, or Dr. Iplier…

Doctor Edward Iplier. His friend, his companion. The only one whom the Host had felt safe with. The doctor had held him, tried to fix him, and when he realizes that he couldn't, he had stayed with the Host. Would that too, disappear?

During his musings the Host hadn't noticed that he had come to the end of the hall. He almost ran into his own door when a set of hands took him by the shoulders and stopped him. The hands were cold, ice like.

Host knew who this was. How could he not? An unbearable screech accompanied by the feeling of suffocation as Darkiplier’s miasma wrapped itself around him. What could he possibly want now?

“That hurts Host.” Oh, the Host must have spoken aloud. “You did,” Dark released the other's shoulders before continuing, “I just came by to say goodnight.”

The Host tilted his head to the right, wishing as he always did that he still has his eyes. Had Dark seen Mark’s livestream, or was this another one of his inside jokes. “The Host pulls back in hesitation before, in a doubtful voice, saying thank you to Darkiplier.”

The Host gasped as arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he's tugged against a frozen chest. His head snapped backwards as the Host tried to pull away from the dark Ego. One of Dark’s arms had slid upward before he pressed the Host’s head to his own shoulder.

The radio host could hear the other's breath hitch within the cavity of his chest. Was… Was Dark, crying? “Dark-?”

He was cut off by low, “Shhh”. The hand holding Host’s head had loosened it's grip as fingers began to run through his hair.

“I'm sorry.”

It was quick. Host had almost missed the words before Darkiplier was gone. Two simple words that the Host had heard many times before, but never from _him_.

The Host shook his head before grabbing his door's handle. With a deep breath, he twisted the knob and entered the pitch black room. Ready to accept whatever came next.

**_~Fin.~_ **


End file.
